


Cry Wolf

by prxmerc



Category: Fables (Willingham) - All Media Types, Fables - Willingham, The Wolf Among Us
Genre: Gen, Murder Mystery, Serial Killers, Tags will be updated as the story goes along!, pre-game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2019-10-10 00:24:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17415440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prxmerc/pseuds/prxmerc
Summary: "There hasn't been a murder in Fabletown in a long time--"Not since The Phantom Butcher.A string of murders and missing people had been taking over the city for a while, but a killer with mysterious motives wasn't an issue the officials of Fabletown bothered themselves with; they only looked out for their own kind, to protect the anonymity for all Fables. But then, something leads them to believe this killer is no Mundy.Meanwhile, an old face from Bigby's past reappears: Thomas, The Boy Who Cried Wolf, an aspiring addition to Fabletown's "police force".





	1. Lone Wolf

“Wolf?”

The man sniffed, turning his back on the voice so he now fully faced the window at the opposite side of the room. He heard the floorboards shift, but they wouldn't come any closer; he saw the look they'd given him earlier.

The sky had turned into a dusky blue since they arrived; sirens wailed in the dark, lighting up the streets below his apartment for a moment as they zoomed pass. Bigby tightened the bandage around his hand, bitterness settling deep in his chest. _They weren't in for a pretty sight._

"…Go back to the station, kid." he pulled a cigarette from his mouth, ashing it on black-spotted windowsill. The tension in his voice was evident, he wanted to be left alone.

After a few seconds there was a quiet shuffle at his back, footsteps were traced slowly towards the doors, hesitant. "If you need anything..." the voice said. A slit of light painted the room, falling on Bigby as he turned to a glare over his shoulder.

Well...calling him a "kid" was a bit of an overstatement. He looked young, but as most Fables, looks were deceiving. And Bigby was more than familiar with Thomas.

He couldn't be mistaken for anything over 24, with thick, tousled black hair that stuck to his face from the strenuous day. His hazel eyes went wide when the Fable's gaze had focused in on him, and quickly he turned his own down to the floorboards.

 _Nothing more than a whelp_ , the Wolf thought.

Thomas grabbed the doorknob, clutching tightly to the officer jacket he held in front of him as he bowed his head. "I'm sorry." He said, not even entirely sure if the Sheriff had heard him— he must have –and then, when it was clear he’d get no response, closed the door behind him.

Bigby turned to the street again, leaning forward with his uninjured hand propped on the windowsill as the blaring sirens had slowly faded into a whine and then stopped.

This was going to be the last time working with him-- he had enough of his shit. _One wrong move_ , he told Snow. Well, this was it.

Thomas' slight form came down the sidewalk, now wearing his jacket as he'd made a small turn to look up at the window where Bigby had remained; quickly, with his tail between his legs, he turned away.

_The Boy Who Cried Wolf._

Even with Thomas' confession, not everyone believed Bigby hadn't killed those Fables in the past. It was a little thing, something that happened a long, long time ago, but he still hadn't forgotten. There was bad blood between them, old blood, and he was expected to forget all that? Because this young, aspiring kid had a dream of being an officer of Fabletown…stopping the bad, helping the good.

 _Damn_ …if he could have seen the look on the kid’s face when Cole had told him just who the Sheriff was.

He'd come to him in the same manner, dressed cleanly, well shaved, that fear tainting his gaze when he'd first knocked on his door. Snow stood behind him, then, no doubt to defuse a situation if one was to occur.

He had to admit, he was surprise to see the kid, now grown and standing at his doorstep of all places. It wasn't a good surprise.

He recognized his scent before his face.

"Sheriff Wolf," the boy held out his hand, stiff and barely able to meet his superior’s gaze.

"...What's he doing here?" a furrow began to settle between Bigby's brows then. Thomas had suddenly felt very small.

"Bigby,” The woman began, “this is--"

"I know who he is. I want to know what he's doing here."

Thomas dropped his hand, giving a slightly awkward side-glance to Snow White.

A chill had come off Snow at his terse response-- he'd only glanced at her when they'd arrived, and now his eyes were fixated on the boy --she replied, her voice stern: "Meet your new partner."

That drew his attention. There was a pulse of light behind the Wolf's gaze, a burst of orangeish-red in the pupils. He wrinkled his nose and curled his lip in a half snarl as he opened the door fully.

Thomas wasn't much shorter than Bigby, but suddenly he felt dwarfed by the man.

"What?"

"Not on my orders," Snow followed, her tone icy, "but we’ve been needing to bolster Fabletown’s security for more than just a while. Cole thought now would be as good a time as any."

"Of course." The Wolf huffed, forcing Thomas to take a few steps back as Bigby stepped out of his office and closed the door behind him, "I'm not taking any partners. He knows that."

"As we’re all aware…though while Cole may be sympathetic, I believe this can be a step forward for all of us. If you'd like to speak to him yourself you're more than welcome, but I think we both know that that won’t get you anywhere."

Thomas made a point to keep his focus on Snow, hoping that it didn't seem like he was...hesitate to acknowledge Bigby; it was impossible to ignore him, even when he could only see the wolf through his peripherals. He still hadn't broken that glare. And only then, narrowing his eyes at the young fable, the Sheriff turned at his heel down the hall.

"Fine." he spat.

It did little good. King Cole feigned ignorance at first, pretending he hadn't known Bigby and Thomas had any kind of past. But soon, when the mayor knew there was no reason for those pleasantries, he relented.

"We need a proper police force. You can't expect to protect all of Fabletown yourself." Cole said. "Blame it on yourself; no one is willing to work with you, Wolf...except him."

And so, days later, there he was...with a fucked up hand, a Mundy-killing-Fable on the loose, and a headache forming in his temples.

Bigby reached in his pocket for another cigarette, batting the bottom of the pack on the windowsill so one popped out, and took it between two fingers. He lit the end and took a deep breath, barely able to take any satisfaction in that first hit of nicotine.


	2. John Doe

What was left in that alleyway wasn’t a simple killing, the person there was slaughtered.

The Homicide Inspector held the cuff of his sleeve to his nose, the body had already started decomposing and the stench that wafted with the wind hit him too suddenly.

“You said you found dogs here?”

“Yeah…” the chief of police replied; he couldn’t stop staring at the vague lump on the street, it was unnerving. “Two of them; forensic can say how much they…ate, but—”

“He wasn’t torn open by any dog.” The Inspector finished for him.

It was difficult to walk very close without stepping in blood. A puddle that had long dried pooled beneath the man—or, what could only be assumed to be male from the exposed anatomy. For the moment there was a tarp covering over his lower section, yet it didn’t hide the most gruesome part of it all.

“Head is missing?”

“Yes.” One of the ladies on the forensic team replied, stepping pass the chief with a bag she retrieved from the nearby van. “And the killer was very careful on taking that one, too.”

As she passed the Inspector she saw his brow rise. “He’s missing his liver, and one of his kidneys.” She answered the unspoken question.

He nodded and cocked his head slightly as she stepped under the security tape.

Beneath her shoe she could feel the dried blood cling to her soles, making a grotesque sticky noise mixed with the grain from the asphalt as she walked. Through the years she’d become very familiar with that sickly-sweet odor…but, after a body had cooked in the sun, even she couldn’t help the slightest gag.

“Any idea on who he is?”

“Not yet.” The chief answered the Inspector. “None of his things was left behind: no phone, no wallet, clothes, nothing.”

The Inspector leaned in over the security tape, nose wrinkled when the woman peeled back the tarp. _Poor guy…it was worse than he thought._

John Doe was split down the middle from throat to groin. Each of the man’s limbs was spread wide, like the skin pulled back from his ribs to…extract all of the organs. Every piece of him was removed and laid by his side, leaving a gaping crater of black blood to fester at the bottom. The ribs were snapped— the Inspector could see a few were missing…if they weren’t lying around somewhere, he could only guess the killer decided to keep them as some sort of sick trophy, as if the victim’s head wasn’t enough.

“Who found him?” The Inspector murmured over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving the body.

And, with a deep sigh: “A couple of kids,” the chief answered, “the mother called it in, said they were riding around on their bikes when they came across him. They’re being questioned right now.”

Dipping under the security tape, the Inspector slowly took his place next to the woman. And, instantly, he could note one thing in particular: the cuts made on the body smooth, made in a “Y” formation from the shoulders before it met in the middle, like the man had already been through an autopsy.

. . .

“I’m not working with him anymore.” Bigby had his arms crossed over his chest, not even flinching to the offered seat Cole had gestured for him to take.

The Mayor sighed, letting his hand fall back onto his table. “That’s not your choice to make.” He answered firmly.

“The kid doesn’t know what he’s doing, he’s a pain in the ass, and you don’t have anyone to train him.”

“We do have someone to train him.”

“ _Not. Me._ ”

Cole kept a steady eye on the wolf. He should’ve expected this to not be so easy.

“Then give me some reason.” He answered finally while leaning back into the plush of his chair. “And nothing from this petty grudge you’re still holding, I want to hear legitimate justification on why I should allow you to fire Thomas.”

Bigby’s eyes narrowed, but he chose to ignore that earlier statement. “The kid got in the way of a possible case I’ve been following, might have even let the bastard get away.” He said.

To this, Cole raised a brow, “I wasn’t aware you were on any sort of case?” 

“I had some suspicions.” Bigby carried on, “Didn’t think I should say anything until I was sure.”

“…and, are you sure?”

There was a beat of silence; the Wolf clicked his teeth once in thought and the tension that was held in his shoulders eased some. Very slowly, he stepped forward, and used the chair in front of the Mayor’s desk to prop his hands on. Things still didn’t add up, but…if he had to go by his gut?

“Yeah.” He answered.

Those gut feelings of his were hardly ever wrong, Cole knew this, too, but—“You have any solid proof?” his chair creaked as he leaned forward.

And this is why he originally decided to keep his mouth shut. Bigby huffed irately, “Well, might have actually had something for you, if that kid didn’t get in my damn way.”

“Of course…” The Mayor’s voice was kept steady; after a moment, he simply spread his hands in a vague gesture, “Why not send the boy on some easier tasks, then? If you’re so eager to get him out of your hair, you could…I don’t know, give him some paperwork to finish up. No one has gotten a file from you in ages.”

Bigby’s mouth twitched in the slightest show of disgust, “…so I guess there’s no any way of convincing you.” He muttered.

“…No.”

Few words passed between the two Fables after that—only more of Cole’s advice on how to only put Thomas to the side. But this wasn’t a damn “out of sight, out of mind” deal.

It was far pass midnight when Bigby had returned to his apartment, and only the light from his window shone through in dim yellows and reds across the floor. He didn’t bother turning on the lamp or anything, he simply trudged on in and closed the door with some force behind him.

He let his cigarette drop on a discarded newspaper, snuffing out the ember with the heel of his shoe.

_‘Those Mundy officers would be long-gone by this time of night’_ , Bigby noted while sinking into the only chair in his small, bedraggled room. They would’ve cleaned the place up, too, he thought with a muttered curse.

It would be risky to check up on the place then, there was still a chance of a few people scoping the area; he would need to go back the next day and hope he could still scrape together some clues that those Mundies didn’t take.

Damn…as if he needed another day where shit didn't go right.


End file.
